Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I ditch the book on his nearby nightstand – next to his Star Trek Enterprise ship – cautiously rise to my bare feet and place a small kiss on his forehead. “Night, Little Hero.”
“Nigh, nigh, Dad.”
“Love you.”
“Wuv you.” There’s barely a breath between sentences. “Mom tiss.”
Bryn’s eyes instantly bulge out of her head in obvious alarm prompting my chest to tighten in distress, wanting to rescue her, wanting to save her from any inkling of anxiety, yet I don’t.
Because this is our son.
Her son.
She’s gotta get back into the mom seat of this ship even if she doesn’t exactly remember how to operate it all the time.
“Mom…?”
I motion my head forcefully towards him to indicate this isn’t a negotiation.
This is not a new opportunity to strike a deal or amend our other.
She is going to kiss her son goodnight.
End of story.
Bryn harshly swallows what appears to be tears and outrage prior to leaning over.
The kiss itself is soft.
Almost too feathery to count.
Luckily for her, he’s already snoring and doesn’t request more of her affections.
Or her love.
Unlike me.
Who is about to demand so much more.
The instant we’re on the other side of the threshold, my wife takes off for the nearest set of stairs.
“Bryn,” I gingerly call during my pursuit. “We need to talk.”
There’s not the faintest bit of surprise that she says nothing.
That she continues to hastily hurry down the halls.
Duck around corners.
Practically leap down the stairs.
Getting to her room before her is impossible, yet stopping her from going inside isn’t.
One hand slams against the top edge of the door itself and mercilessly curls, refusing to let her slip away, forcing her to become trapped in my space.
My presence.
“We. Need. To. Talk.”
“Yeah, I thought I made it clear I wasn’t interested in that when I didn’t respond the first time.”
“I’m not asking you, Ms. Winters.” My body sways closer, only stopping when it’s firmly pressing itself against her back. “I’m telling you.” The sound of her breath hitching threatens to have mine do the same. “We’re going to.”
One slow spin around results in her heaving chest knocking into mine. “You sure talking is what you really wanna do, Mr. Wilcox?” Her fingertips do the thing I least expect and lightly glide down the front of my t-shirt. “Because…this,” they gently cup my swelling shaft, “doesn’t feel like a discussion.”
Not groaning over being touched is impossible.
And so is not letting my stare become heavy.
Or hooded.
However, I push past the hungry grumbles festering in my throat to state, “Fucking my wife is not up for discussion.”
“Maybe it should be?” The salacious waggling of her eyebrow sparks an unfortunately familiar ache. “Maybe it’s all that we should be discussing?”
“How can we discuss anything when the only thing you do is hide all day?”
“I’m sorry…what exactly do you call what you’re doing all day?”
“Working.”
“Avoiding.”
“I have…responsibilities.”
“You have excuses.”
There’s no stopping the glare I twitch.
“And you just hate that I have them too.”
My lips momentarily press together in irritation.
I hate that she’s right.
I hate that even when she should be wrong, she isn’t.
“Why are you hiding?” Our eyes lock aggressively onto one another’s, both bracing for a fight. “Is it me?” I tighten my clasp. “Is it because I look like this?” Bitterness marches across my tongue. “Is it because you cannot stomach the very sight of me anymore?”
“Stomach the sight of you?” Her head condescendingly tips to one side before she thrusts her lower half into my free-floating hand revealing unforeseen warmth and wetness. “Does that feel like I can’t stomach the sight of you, Mr. Wilcox?”
“Fuck…” my fingers thoughtlessly curl, “you’re soaking, Little Prey.”
“And I don’t get that way for men who fucking disgust me.” She pushes my hold away almost as quickly as she welcomed it. “Make sure you put that shit down in the captain’s log.”
“Noted.” Both of my hands relocate to brace themselves on the frame. “Tell me why you’re hiding from me. Your friends. Family. Our son.” I stomp down the lump of dread doing its best to clog my vocal cords. “Tell me why this is the most time we’ve spent together since the hospital.”
“You mean since you locked me in the castle with only Mrs. Teapot to talk to?”
“You leaving the estate with an unidentified threat is not ideal.”
“And you all but locking me in the cellar with your aged collection of family whiskey isn’t either.”
Narrowing my glare can’t be helped. “So, you’re punishing me for trying to protect you?”
“That’s what you think I’m doing in here all day, every day?” Her condescending head tilt shuts my mouth once more. “You think I’m just locked away piloting the USS Petty?”
Alright.
This conversation isn’t going the way I expected.
Then again, they rarely ever do when it comes to her.
“Come on in, Captain Jonathan Asshat.” Bryn bumps her body violently backward against the door, granting us access inside. “Let me give you a grand tour of the bridge.” Cautiously following in leads to an unveiling on her bed that I would’ve never expected. “Here you’ll find what is evidently my laptop,” she mockingly waves, “where I’ve been reviewing articles and interviews and exposés regarding your family, our relationship, our company, our charities, and the marine life institute where I currently run a fucking division all on my own.” Another device is unexpectedly grabbed from the nightstand and tossed onto the bed. “This tablet – that I borrowed from my mom –” one swipe wakes the device back up exposing me to a night I’ll never forget, “I’ve been using to review our wedding photos. The ones the public had as well as the ones we kept in private. Our family vacations, in which I have taken full notice of the fact that we only travel by vehicle.” She lets her hands falls to her hips. “I’m sure that ties to what happened to your parents and my dad but isn’t exactly a subject I think we wanna get into when so much other shit is a bit more pressing.”